June Still Sucks

"Guess who showed up at my door this morning?" I asked, skipping all of our usual pleasantries.

"No telling. Who?" she asked curiously.

"Daisy," I said. I could hear my mother gasp.

"What happened? What does she want?" Mom asked.

I told her what happened with Daisy and passed on what she told me.

"She doesn't look good at all, Mom. My gut tells me I should toss her ass back on the street, but..."

"You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something happened to her," Mom said, finishing my thought.

"No, I don't think I could. And there's the abuse she took from Bruce."

"I know she hurt you badly," Mom said. "But maybe you should listen to what she has to say. I'll tell you what. Why don't I come over later after I finish up around here?"

I knew Mom could get to the bottom of things and perhaps get Daisy to open up more, so I agreed.

"That's not a bad idea, Mom. I could use your sage advice."

"Give me a little bit and I'll be over."

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that," I said. We ended the call, and I finished my business.

I donned a T-shirt and a pair of jeans - my normal summertime wear - and went back downstairs. Daisy had already put her clothes into the washing machine and was waiting for me in the living room, dressed in my old bathrobe and a pair of ratty slippers. I didn't know if she had anything else on, and I didn't care.

Even though she had the robe pulled tight over her body, I noticed dark blotches on her legs. She smelled better, but she didn't look any healthier.

"Would you like some more coffee?" I asked.

"I would love some, please," she replied.

I poured another cup of coffee and joined her in the living room. She took a sip, and I saw her hands shake again.

"Thank you," she whispered. "My clothes are in the washer. I'll leave when they're finished."

"There's no rush," I told her. "I have a few questions I'd like answered if you don't mind."

"Of course," Daisy said with relief. "It's the least I can do."

"I suppose. You said Bruce was hit with a malpractice suit. I thought doctors like him had malpractice insurance. Wasn't he covered for that?"

"He was, but the one lawsuit turned into a class action. And then there were allegations of wrongdoing. As a result, the insurance company dropped his coverage. Even though most of the allegations were proven to be false, the judgments against him were just too much and the coverage was never reinstated," Daisy explained.

"Most of the allegations?" I asked. "You mean some of them were true?"

"The allegations that weren't proven true were dropped due to lack of evidence," she said. "But by then the damage was already done. We were fired and our licenses were revoked."

"Didn't the two of you have 401Ks?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, we did. That's what we lived on for a year. We paid a hefty penalty for that, but it couldn't have been helped. We had lost everything. No one would hire us for anything for the longest time and we needed the money."

"What is Bruce doing now?"

"He works as a parking lot attendant. Makes about $16 an hour," Daisy said.

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. Especially after Daisy's talk about him becoming a "leader in the community."

"What are your plans?" I asked.

"I thought I might try to find something in the medical field. I may have lost my nursing license, but I can still work in an office," Daisy said quietly.

"Good luck with that," I told her. "How do you plan to get around?

Where were you going to live?"

"I can take the bus, or walk," she responded dully. "I'll find someplace to live."

"You need money for all of that. I thought you didn't have any."

"I... don't."

"So, you thought I would let you stay here and support you until you got on your feet. Is that right?" I asked.

"I knew it was a risk, but I thought I would ask, yes," Daisy admitted. "I know you don't owe me anything, but I thought that maybe since I gave you everything in the divorce, you might see your way to extending some kindness to me. I was so enthralled by the bastard that I honestly didn't realize what my stupidity did to you. I realize now that coming here expecting anything was a mistake."

"You're right. I don't owe you a fucking thing." She looked broken, but I sighed and added, "But I'm not a completely heartless monster. It's obvious to me you need help. My mother is coming over in a little bit. She'd like to talk with you before I make a decision."

"Of course," Daisy said replied in relief. "I always thought the world of your mother."

"And she loved you like the daughter she never had," I replied. Then I added, though I don't know why, "Even after everything you did, Mom still loved you."

"She did?" Daisy asked, surprised.

"Yeah. So you need to be completely honest with her. Do you understand me?"

"I... understand. And I promise I'll be completely honest with her. And Mike?"

"What?" I asked.

"Thank you for everything," Daisy said very sincerely.

"Don't thank me just yet," I said. Just then, I heard the doorbell ring.

I saw Mom when I looked through the peephole, so I opened the door and let her in, greeting her with a hug.

"Daisy! My word, girl, has it been ten years?" Mom asked when she saw Daisy in my old bathrobe. The two women hugged and kissed each other's cheeks.

"It's good to see you again, Lorraine," Daisy replied.

"Mike, sweetheart, why don't you let us girls talk for a while?" Mom asked. I knew this was her way of asking for privacy, so I retreated into my home office, closing the door. I browsed the web, searching for any information about the malpractice lawsuit against Dr. Bruce Williams.

It took some time, but I finally found something. From what I could tell from the summary, Bruce had seen about 2,000 patients in four years and diagnosed about 97 percent of them with epilepsy. But it turned out that some children suffered seizures, had other medical conditions, or were simply sleep-deprived.

Compounding the mistake, Bruce prescribed powerful anti-epileptic medications associated with severe side effects and advised patients to undergo unnecessary medical treatment and procedures. And if that wasn't bad enough, many plaintiffs named Daisy as an accomplice.

"Almost every child who came through their door was given a series of tests and diagnosed as having epilepsy whether they had it or not," one of the plaintiff's lawyers said. In some cases, Daisy gave their parents the bad news, with Bruce agreeing with her diagnosis.

Worse yet, the hospital had to repay over $300,000 to the state for inappropriate Medicaid billing. No wonder the hospital fired them, I thought. The state fined both Bruce and Daisy and then rescinded their licenses.

After more than a half-hour, I sat back, shaking my head at what I had just read. There was no doubt in my mind that Bruce was the mastermind behind the scheme, and Daisy just went along with whatever he said.

I heard a tapping on the door, then saw Mom pop her head in. I motioned for her to enter, so she sat in the chair next to my desk.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I think Daisy needs to see Dr. McGregor as soon as possible," Mom said. The serious look on her face gave me a sinking feeling. Terry McGregor had been our family doctor for years, and Mom worked for him until she retired a few years ago.

"Oh? Why?"

"I can't make diagnoses, but I've seen quite a few women with cancer. I'd lay odds that she's got cancer, and she needs to be seen as soon as possible," Mom said. But she wasn't finished.

"I know Daisy has burned her bridges with you, and I understand that," Mom said. "Believe me, I understand completely. But if she's got a medical problem, we need to do what we can for her. It's only right." She gave me a small, crooked 'mom' smile. "I never told you that being a Christian was easy, did I? Besides, Michael James Carpenter, your father and I did not raise you to be an uncaring asshole, did we?"

I winced, gave her a small, wry 'kid' smile, and shook my head.

"So," she continued, "I took it upon myself to call Dr. McGregor. He's agreed to see her today, and he'll run all the preliminary tests for me. If they find anything, they'll refer her to a specialist and help her with the forms for Medicaid. She's changing now, and I'll take her down."

"You can't afford that, Mom," I said. "Here, let me give you some cash." I pulled out two one-hundred dollar bills and gave them to her.

"Thank you, Mike. You're a good son."

"Thanks. I want it clear that I'm not doing this for her. I'm doing this because of how you raised me. And this doesn't mean I forgive her or I'm taking her back," I added emphatically.

"I understand," Mom replied quietly.

There was an awkward silence. "Did she tell you that bastard Bruce beat her?" I finally asked.

"Yes, she did." Her perfectly neutral expression and her perfectly flat tone surprised me.

I nodded my head curtly in acknowledgment. The bastard needs to pay for that, I thought.

There was another awkward silence. "Call me if you hear anything," I said.

"I will," Mom assured me, kissing my forehead before leaving the office. I walked out to see Daisy in a different dress. It was clean but as threadbare as the one she had on earlier.

"Thank you for breakfast," she said meekly.

"You're welcome," I replied stiffly. I held the door open as they left the house, then closed and locked it when I saw them drive off. I grabbed another cup of coffee and headed for my office, where I researched Bruce and Wisconsin laws regarding spousal abuse.

What I found didn't make me feel any better. One site said that while the state takes abuse charges seriously, "many cases will only be prosecuted within three years of the occurrence." I had no idea how long it had been since Bruce assaulted Daisy, but my gut told me there would probably be very little done by the authorities.

I was more than a bit cynical. There was very little they could take away from him, and if they stuck him in prison, the state had to cover his medical and three squares a day in an overcrowded system. Community service, at best. If the state wouldn't punish him for me, maybe I would have to do it myself. But how?

Frustrated, I shut the computer down, changed into my workout clothes, and went downstairs to punish myself on my new, state-of-the-art stationary bike. I programmed the machine to take me on a ride through rugged mountainous terrain. I focused on the scenery displayed on the widescreen monitor.

Daisy wasn't the only one who had changed over the last ten years. When we were married, I was trim but not fit. Today, I was not only trim but quite fit as well, and liked to work out at least three times a week, pushing myself as hard as possible.

I showered and dressed after my workout, which did wonders for my overall disposition, and then ate a light lunch as I watched the news. It was 3:00 in the afternoon when I finally heard from Mom.

"I was beginning to wonder what happened to you guys," I said when I answered the call.

"We just got done with Dr. McGregor," Mom said wearily. By the tone, I suspected Daisy was out of earshot.

"What's the word?" I asked.

"He's very concerned about Daisy. The tests don't look good at all. He thinks she might have advanced cervical cancer, but he wants a second opinion from an oncologist."

"Oncologist?" I exclaimed, seeing dollar signs in my mind.

"She's filled out the Medicaid and emergency state assistance forms," Mom said. "She has an appointment at the cancer center on Friday. Dr. McGregor already set it up. He also said she's extraordinarily malnourished and believes she's been physically abused."

"We know she's been abused," I said. "And she told me she hadn't eaten for a couple of days."

"He seems to think it's a lot worse than that," Mom said and sighed. "It's not just about the amount of food. It's about not getting all the vitamins, minerals, and nutrients to stay healthy." I could tell she was worried.

"Listen, Mike. It's late, so I'm taking her to get a bite to eat, then over to Walmart to get some things. We'll stop by and get her suitcase. If you don't mind, I think she should stay at my place. We have a lot to discuss, and I think she would feel more comfortable talking with a woman."

"I think that would be best as well," I agreed quickly, glad to have that off my shoulders. "I'll be here. Thanks for letting me know."

"I'll call you when we're on our way," Mom said. "Love you, son."

"I love you too, Mom," I replied before ending the call. She called back about three hours later to let me know they were on their way. I held the door open when they came inside. Mom motioned to the office, so we went in while Daisy collected her things.

"Sorry it took so long," Mom started.

"That's all right," I said. "What's going on?"

"We're going to be busy getting Daisy taken care of for the next couple of days. A lot has to be done before her appointment on Friday. I know you don't care about her, but she told me that she still loves you and wondered if..."

I held my hand and shook my head violently before she could finish her statement. "No, Mom. There's no way I'm getting back with her. Not even as friends. Not after how she lied to me, cheated on me for thirteen years, and publicly humiliated me. That's not how you treat someone you love, and I'm not going down that road again. I'll be civil to her for your sake, but that's it. I've got nothing left for her. Or anyone else, for that matter," I added bitterly.

"I understand," Mom said. "I just thought..."

"I know. You thought that I could forgive her and start over. That ship sailed away ten years ago."

"I told her that, but she thinks that she can win you back."

"Not gonna happen," I said emphatically. I wondered if being delusional was one of the cancer symptoms. "Besides, I'm not the same man she dumped ten years ago."

"No, you're not," Mom responded sadly. "Frankly, I miss the old Mike sometimes. At least he laughed and smiled every so often. Can you at least come over for dinner on Friday night? I'll make your favorite."

"Lasagna?" I asked, suddenly hopeful.

"Of course," she replied with a smile.

"I'll be there," I promised. "Your lasagna always puts a smile on my face." We hugged and returned to the front room, where Daisy was waiting with her suitcase.

"I'm going to stay with your mother if that's okay," Daisy said weakly.

"That's up to her," I said as Mom gave me "that" look.

"Anyway, thank you for breakfast, and for listening to me," Daisy said with a tear in her eye.

"You're welcome," I said with a slight nod.

"Don't forget dinner on Friday," Mom reminded me unnecessarily. "I'll be expecting you no later than 6:30."

"I'll be there, promise," I told her.

I managed to stay busy for the next two days. Although school was out for the summer break, I still had things to do: a new curriculum to go over, lesson plans to get approved, and so on. And a house and yard to maintain. I didn't have much time to think about Daisy, and I figured she was in good hands anyway. Mom had a way of breaking through "the system" when everyone else hit brick walls. She had been the state's best nurse and medical billing specialist in her day.

Friday finally arrived, and I left the house after a nice hot shower, stopping to pick up a bottle of wine to go with Mom's lasagna. I came at 6:15 and was met at the door by Daisy, who let me inside, telling me Mom was busy in the kitchen. I could tell Daisy had been crying about something, but I made no comment.

"Thank you," I said as I walked past her and toward the kitchen. Mom turned when I came in, and her face lit up when she saw the bottle of wine. I put the bottle down and hugged my mother.

We sat down at the table and enjoyed the lasagna. Daisy looked like she was about to break down.

"How did everything go today?" I finally asked.

"We got Daisy's application approved," Mom said. "Thank goodness for this new-fangled Internet system they have. I wish they had that back when I retired." I could tell she was forcing her upbeat attitude.

"So, Daisy's medical expenses will be covered, then?" I asked, relieved.

"Yes, and the state will give her a monthly stipend. It won't be much, but she won't be needing much anyway since she'll be staying here," Mom said. "They're also going to go after Bruce for the maintenance he's supposed to be paying."

If they can find him and squeeze blood from a turnip, I darkly observed to myself. "That's good," I said replied out loud. "What about the oncologist?"

Daisy's face darkened, and Mom's expression changed. I knew whatever news they had wouldn't be good.

"They confirmed she has stage four cervical cancer," Mom said. "And it's rapidly spreading throughout her body. It's already in her extremities."

"They can treat it, though, right?" I asked. I wasn't sure what I was feeling, other than uncomfortable, that is.

"Maybe," Mom said. She looked at Daisy as if to ask permission to say more. Daisy nodded her head as a tear fell down her cheek. "They put her chances of survival at less than 20 percent. They can treat her, but there's no guarantee she'll make it. It would've been a different story if they had caught it three or four years ago."

"Three or four years? She's had it that long?" I asked, surprised.

"The doctors said they believe I've had it for about four years," Daisy said dully. "If they had diagnosed it, then my chances of survival would have been over 90 percent. As of now, it's about 19 percent."

"That sucks. Didn't... Bruce... notice anything strange?" I asked her. I forced myself not to say 'asshole' as I usually didn't swear in front of my mother if I could help it.

"I don't know. He never said anything. Things were pretty bad for us back then," Daisy explained. "I noticed some... changes, but I figured it was due to the stress we were under then. I didn't want to give Bruce anything more to worry about."

"What kind of changes?" I asked.

"It... hurt... when we, you know, did it," Daisy said, embarrassed at mentioning her sex life with Bruce. "It got so bad that we quit doing anything for a while." I was glad she didn't elaborate further. Mom stepped into the conversation quickly.

"They have some new medications they can give her that might help," she said. "The doctor said those could increase her chances by ten or fifteen percent. It's better than nothing."

"So, what are you going to do?" I asked Daisy.

"I don't have much choice. It's either fight or lay down and die. And I'm not ready to die just yet," my ex-wife said with a flash of her old spirit. "I have things I want... need... to do before I die."

I didn't ask about what those things were. "And how long is this treatment going to take?" I asked Mom.

"It could take up to a year," she said. "Maybe more."

A year, I thought. A lot can happen in a year. Can I keep it together that long?

"And Daisy will stay here, with you, that whole time?" I asked sternly. I definitely did NOT want her in MY house.

"I think that would be best. I may be retired, but I still remember how to take care of patients. I'll be here with her the whole time, and I know who to call in the event of an emergency," Mom said.

"I suppose that makes sense," I reluctantly agreed.

"Will you be able to handle this arrangement?" Mom asked me.

I looked at Daisy as I considered Mom's question. There was a time when I would have done practically anything for the woman sitting across from me. Then I remembered how she so cavalierly ditched me in public for Bruce. Daisy saw the look on my face change.

"I know you don't trust me, but," she stammered.

"That's the understatement of the year," I said, interrupting her. "Let me put it to you like this. If you hurt my mother in any way or pull some kind of crap, so help me God, I will personally kick your ass into the street, cancer, or no cancer. You understand?"